


Choices for a New Life

by princeyuri



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Climbing Class, Confessions, Crying, Illness, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Game, a slur related to mental illness is used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13011078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyuri/pseuds/princeyuri
Summary: He lies awake at night, his head filled with Josh, replaying it all, before and after, over and over. How could he let it get that bad? How could he not see? He needs to see him. Needs to know he’s okay, needs to make up for his mistakes in whatever way he can.So now, in his car, on his way to this new life, he makes a decision that doesn’t really feel like a decision at all. It’s the only option, really.“Can I come right now?”





	Choices for a New Life

**Author's Note:**

> An old, self-indulgent hurt and comfort fic from like two years ago that I found and fixed up a bit. A result of frustration with the way Josh Washington's endings work out...  
> It's pretty short and simple canon revisionism, but I hope you enjoy it!

Chris is on his way to class when he gets the call.

“He’s well enough now for visitors,” Melinda Washington tells him, her voice wavering distinctly enough to be heard over the phone. Chris doesn’t need to be told who she’s talking about, and his hand tightens instinctively on the steering wheel, a shiver coursing through his body.

Josh. He still thinks of him as his best friend, in spite of everything. Despite not having seen him in over a month, his presence in Chris’s life reduced to Melinda’s infrequent and short texts about his status, and the nightmares that he wakes up from nearly screaming, drenched in sweat.

He had been angry at first, of course. Josh had hurt him, hurt all of them, betrayed their trust. But he had forgiven him, keeping firmly in mind how hard Josh had taken the loss of his sisters, how much he had struggled even before that. Josh needed help and support, not to be abandoned like that. Chris was his best friend, and he had let Josh  down when he needed it most. Twice. When the nightmare had ended for the rest of them, Josh still suffered, alone in the mines for weeks.

For the most part, the others’ reactions had not been as forgiving as his. He remembers when he defended Josh the first time the group got together after everything, reminding them how sick Josh was and how hard everything had been on him, how he couldn’t be held entirely accountable for his actions. Not a single one of them had backed him. Even Sam had sat silently, averting her eyes and biting down hard on her lip while Chris spoke.

“We all could have died thanks to that crazy shit,” Mike had said, voice practically dripping with restrained aggression. His grip on Jess’s wrist looked painful, but her gaze was blank.

“Unlike some of us here, what Josh did didn’t _actually_ get any of our friends killed,” Chris had spat, mind blank, angry as fuck. He wasn’t surprised when Mike hit him, couldn’t even really be mad. It had been the lowest of low blows, after all. As he hit the ground, his jaw throbbing sharply and his mouth filling with the taste of blood, his ears rang with the sound of Josh’s voice as he begged not to be hit.

After that, they had all agreed it would be simpler if they kept their distance, recovered on their own terms. So he had done just that. He goes back to school, immerses himself in schoolwork.

He stays in touch with Sam and Ashley, who stay in touch with the rest of them. Through them, he hears how everyone is, how they are recovering and moving on. He wonders, despite Melinda’s updates assuring him things are progressing, if a recovery like this will ever be possible for Josh.

His grades are good. He’s pretty well-liked. He’s making progress. But this life of his feels mysteriously vacant, like it’s just a preoccupation from the gnawing guilt in his belly, twisting and growing, from the gaping hole in his life. Despite his near constant fatigue, he lies awake at night, his head filled with Josh, replaying it all, before and after, over and over. How could he let it get that bad? How could he not see? He needs to see him. Needs to know he’s okay, needs to make up for his mistakes in whatever way he can.

So now, in his car, on his way to this new life, he makes a decision that doesn’t really feel like a decision at all. It’s the only option, really.  

“Can I come right now?” he asks, his whole body thrumming with purpose, changing his course to the Washington house before he even receives an answer.

\--

Melinda hugs him at the door, something she’s never done before. She’s so glad he’s come, she says. Chris feels like every part of him is tingling faintly from the energy accumulated in anticipation for this moment.

She leads him through the house and up a dark set of stairs, updating him along the way. He’s doing so much better in every way, she assures. They found a doctor who was willing to do home visits for him, and he’s been home for a few days. He’ll be so happy to see Chris. Chris tries to listen, but he can barely focus, only hears two thirds of it max. His palms are sweaty and his fingers are clenched tight once they reach the door.

“I’ll be in the next room, if it gets to be too much,” Melinda quietly promises. “I’ll take over whenever you need.”

Chris’s pulse pounds loudly in his ears as he opens the door. The room is different. Cleaner, maybe. Less of Josh’s junk lying around. The biggest difference is the medical equipment they have yet to remove, and the new bed. The new bed where Josh was, turned towards the window, only his profile visible to Chris.

The first thought Chris has is that he looks wrong. He looks washed out, pale and sickly. He’s lost much too much weight, his cheeks sunken in and the bags under his eyes severe, even darker than before. He looks so, so, so impossibly tired.

Chris can’t make himself speak around the lump in his throat, can’t make himself move. So it’s Josh who moves first, turning to face him, Chris’s chest throbbing painfully because he’s alive, he’s here, he’s-

“Cochise,” he says, voice small and rough. He’s smiling slightly, his gaze fixed on somewhere around Chris’s shoulder.

“Josh,” Chris says, hearing his own voice like it’s someone else speaking. “Hey, buddy, hey,” He has to snap out of this, get it together.

“What are you waiting for? Go on an’ pull up a chair, get up close and personal,” Josh tells him, gesturing towards the chairs. Chris does so.

“So,” Chris forces out, “How have you been?” It’s a stupid question, he knows, but he wants to hear the answer, from Josh’s own lips. So Josh tells him.

He had been down there for just over two weeks, starving and dehydrated. He had gotten a scratch on his leg at some point, which became infected. They had to take out a chunk of his leg and he still had trouble walking, wasn’t supposed to tire himself out too much. He had to be monitored, he said, as apparently starvation had negative effects on your psyche.

“I don’t really remember much,” he said, hands clenching and unclenching in his sheets, “Of that part, I mean,” he looks up, finally, meeting Chris’s eyes. “But I remember… what I did to you. All of you,” His voice wavered uncharacteristically. “Chris, man, I… I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t right, I was-”

“Sick,” Chris finishes for him quietly. He reaches out and grasps Josh’s wrist, comforted by the heat he feels there, despite the too-thin wrist. Josh nods and doesn’t pull away.

“I want to get better,” Josh manages, his voice thin, his whole body trembling, “I am getting better. I promise. I promise.”

“I know, I know, man, I know,” Chris whispers. The room falls uncomfortably silent. Chris can feel Josh’s pulse through his wrist. Chris’s own heartbeat pulses sickly in his ears, hot and heavy.

“Chris,” Josh finally chokes out, the tears welling in his eyes, “I really fucked up this time. I really fucked up, didn’t I? There’s no coming back from this one, is there?”

Chris’s gut twists with a combination of pain and panic. He wants to be help, but they don’t do this. They’re _bros,_ they don’t talk about their feelings. But that attitude was how this got so bad. He needed to do this, needed to support Josh, tell him he forgave him and everything was going to be fine.

The tears start flowing from Josh’s eyes, his breathing ragged and gasping. He hasn’t seen Josh cry in so long, not even after Hannah and Beth… Josh hadn’t let him see. He looks so pitiful, so sick and small. Chris can’t bare to see him like this, the ball of guilt in his stomach expanding and unfurling.

Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s leaned forward onto the bed, cradling Josh’s head against his shoulder, his arms around him. Josh is stiff against his embrace, and Chris can feel the tension in his whole body. Chris’s skin tingles where they touch, as it used to, but he ignores it, determined to calm his friend.

“You don’t have to f-forgive me, I don’t expect that,” Josh stutters out. “No one else would, I mean, no one needs a fucked up psycho like me in their lives.”

“Don’t,” Chris begs, his own voice shaking and cracking. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” At that, Josh gasps and sobs, pressing his face against Chris, his tears hot and wet on Chris’s clothed shoulder.

Josh is warm and shaking, sobbing and muttering, cursing himself, apologizing. He doesn’t calm, like Chris expects him to, just keeps going. Chris presses his cheek against the side of Josh’s head, and they burn with an emotion he chooses to ignore. His friend needs him. He shushes him softly, carding a hand through Josh’s short hair.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he presses a quick kiss to Josh’s forehead, is immediately embarrassed once he’s done it. It’s instinctual, he guesses, it was how his parents comforted him when he was little, but Josh is very much… not little. Inappropriate, Chris!

But Josh doesn’t seem to find it inappropriate. He makes a strange noise(that totally does NOT send tingles along Chris’s spine), like a choked gasp mixed with a whimper. And suddenly his hands go up to the sides of Chris’s face and he’s pulling him down, their noses knocking briefly before Josh presses his lips to Chris’s.

Chris knows this is probably too much, too fast. He knows, and yet he can’t bring himself to pull away. His heart pounds in his chest, and all he can think to do is to kiss back, to give himself to Josh in what little way he can. Josh makes another noise when reciprocates, egging Chris on further.

The kiss is gentle at first, Josh’s lips are soft and his movements careful. Chris can feel his fingers trembling slightly against his jaw. Chris presses closer, parts his lips a bit more, and the fingers dig in a bit. Josh guides Chris’s mouth open, deepens the kiss. Josh kisses him forcefully, and when he takes Chris’s bottom lip between his teeth, Chris goes hot all over and moans, feeling his ears burn at the noise. It feels good.

But Josh’s eyes open wide and pulls away from Chris. He scoots back abruptly, panic spreading across his features.

“Fuck,” Josh gasps out, “Chris, man, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sorry?” Chris cuts him off. “What’re you sorry for?” He reaches out and grasps Josh’s hand in his. He evaluates his friend, whose cheeks are damp with tears, eyes wide with panic. “I… I kissed you back, didn’t I? I liked it.”

Josh just stares at him. He’s looking at Chris like he’s suddenly sprouted antlers, or something. “Cochise,” he starts, his voice small. “I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but…” he bites his bottom lip. “Uh,” his voice cracks, “this is… this is real, isn’t it?”

Chris’s heart wavers, his stomach plummeting. Josh, he…

“Yeah, buddy, yeah,” he says, “This is real right now, _I’m_ real.” He squeezes Josh’s hand. Josh licks his lips nervously, and then lets out a wet laugh.

“Jesus,” Josh exhales. His eyes flutter closed, then open. “O-okay. Okay. Shit.” He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself, and Chris’s heart races. “Chris, bro, honestly, I’ve been… I’ve been into you for, fuck, so long.” Chris squeezes his hand, intertwines their fingers.

“I… you’re important to me, Josh,” Chris starts, “I don’t understand everything right now, but I do know that. I’m not going anywhere, alright man?” Josh smiles at him. Chris’s heart aches. He wonders how long it had been since Josh had smiled like that, under any circumstances.

“Can I kiss you?” Josh asks. He sounds almost shy. Shy. That was one thing Chris had never thought of Josh as.

“Think we’re a little past that, dude,” Chris says, laughing. Josh laughs too, if briefly.

“Never hurts to ask, bro." This time Chris leans in, and Josh slots his hands back into place at the sides of Chris’s face. Chris slides one hand up and down Josh’s arm, stroking comfortingly.

They sit like that for a while, silent. The tension in Josh’s body dissipates gradually. He melts into Chris’s embrace, his breathing evening out, his eyes closing. Chris thinks he looks drained, small and vulnerable, but less haggard.  

There are many things Chris is still unsure of. He doesn’t know what the future will look like for them, if he and Josh can ever fit in the world like they used to. He doesn't even know if he wants that. After all, that past was riddled with painful secrets, and even the rosiest days could not reconcile with this new reality.

As he holds his best friend, watching his features relax into something that finally resembles comfort, Chris realizes that this is what he must do, no matter what. To be here, for Josh, with him. They’ll get better together and build a new life. Josh won’t have to keep any more painful secrets from him, ever, ever again.


End file.
